


Even the Stars are Singing

by elrhiarhodan



Series: Paladin 'Verse [31]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Angst, Domesticity, F/M, Future Fic, Grief, M/M, Multi, OT3, paladin 'verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-20
Updated: 2013-06-20
Packaged: 2017-12-15 14:16:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/850508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elrhiarhodan/pseuds/elrhiarhodan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal’s restless, it’s a difficult time of year for him.  Peter and Elizabeth don’t need to say much, they just have to give him the love he so desperately needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Even the Stars are Singing

Neal’s restless – he always is this time of year. It’s been five years and he expects he’ll be like this for the next five, and the five years after that. He can’t lie here anymore; he can’t take the comfort, the security – it’s smothering him. So he eases himself out of bed, he tries not to disturb his lovers. Of course, he’s successful. Neal Caffrey’s good at many things, and stealth is one of them.

He goes to the window, but there’s no view – just the apartment building next door, a scrap of too-bright night sky. He finds his pants, his shirt and puts them on. He shoves his feet into a pair of boots – they’re not his but they fit well enough.

Neal thinks that this time of year, he should be sleeping alone. Or at least spending the nights in his apartment, where there’s a terrace and a balcony and he can see at least a few stars. He can’t say why that’s important, but it is.

Looking back at his lovers’ bed, they are wrapped around each other; they won’t miss him for a while. That will be long enough. Neal closes the door behind him, the latch engages with a quiet snick and he holds still, praying that the noise doesn’t wake them.

Neal doesn’t creep downstairs, but he does take care where he steps. The fourth and the seventh and the eleventh stair creak, especially in the winter when the old house starts to act its age. He makes to the bottom landing, but the dog, sleeping at the foot of the stairs, looks up – hopeful. He starts to pant and wag, excited by the prospect of an unexpected jaunt or treat.

It’s a dilemma – Neal doesn’t want to engage with the dog, he wants to be alone. But he knows too well that ignoring the beast will bring unwanted consequences. So he gets to his knees and pets the boy, stroking him until the dog calms, and he finds himself calmed as well. Neal shifts from his knees into a sitting position and leans against the wall. Sensing an opportunity, the dog heaves himself onto Neal’s lap and goes back to sleep, his weight pinning him in place.

Neal rests his head against the wall, he doesn’t mind this. It’s nice, but the living warmth echoes what he was so desperate leave behind, and now he has no choice but to remain. His eyes close, and for a while he allows himself to escape the anxiety that drives him. 

It doesn’t last. The dog shifts, rolls over and Neal breaks free. His legs are numb, but he gets to his feet and shakes out the pins and needles. But it’s too late, he’s caught.

“You okay?” A voice, soft, concerned calls down from the top of the stairs.

Neal doesn’t answer. He schools his face to blandness, puts his hands in his pockets and shrugs. He has to look away; he sees the compassion there, the understanding. He doesn’t want that now. He wants…what? To flay himself with guilt, to keep feeling that pain, to stop moving forward.

The fourth, seventh and eleventh step creak and suddenly Peter’s there, real and awake and alive. He touches Neal’s face, a caress of compassion and understanding.

“I need …” Neal’s voice cracks, like he hasn’t used it in a while. “I need to go.”

“Can we come with you?” Peter turns and looks up. Elizabeth’s standing there, an angel illuminated.

Right now, he wants to be alone, but he can’t deny them. So he waits. Peter goes back upstairs, and he and Elizabeth disappear into the bedroom. Not five minutes later, they emerge, fully dressed. Peter’s carrying another pair of boots and a pair of socks, he looks pointedly at Neal’s feet. They exchange footgear and he’s going to be grateful for the warmth the socks provide.

Somehow, they make it out the door and down the steps. It’s after three AM, no one else is on the street. For good reason, it’s cold enough that his breath – their breath – hangs in the air, glowing orange under the streetlamps.

They walk aimlessly, arm in arm in arm. He’s not in the middle – they know he may need to break away – but for the moment it’s okay to remain locked with them.

There’s a park ahead, the gates are open and he stops. It’s three days after Christmas, the festive lights still span the street, but they aren’t lit. It could be dark enough to see the brightest stars. He needs to, just for a few moments. He needs to find a little peace. Elizabeth lets him go and he walks away from them. 

This isn’t some great urban oasis, just a few acres of frozen greenery, a stickball field, a couple of swing sets. All abandoned for the season, for the night. Neal finds the constellations glittering like diamonds in the black velvet sky, and picks out Orion and Canis Major – the brightest, the most familiar. It’s like they’re singing to him, and he tilts his back further, trying to look straight up. The singing gets louder, a dissonant threnody to his sudden dizziness. He falls and Peter and Elizabeth come running, they kneel over him, concern and love blocking out the stars.

He reaches out and touches them. Their presence eases the loss that always dogs him this season. They say his name and the stars stop singing and he’s grounded. He’s Neal Caffrey once more, and he wants to go home.

__

FIN


End file.
